


Fallen

by deathbycoldopen



Category: Supernatural
Genre: 8x23 coda, Comfort, Depression, Drunkenness, Fallen Castiel, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-20
Updated: 2013-05-20
Packaged: 2017-12-12 09:48:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,960
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/810189
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deathbycoldopen/pseuds/deathbycoldopen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Trust Cas to disappear not two hours after they got him back to the bunker, and only call them once he was completely hammered at the nearest bar.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fallen

**Author's Note:**

> Coda for 8x23. Crossposted on my tumblr as usual.
> 
> Enjoy, and let's hope we all survive the four month hiatus!

"Dean m' _fine_ ," Cas muttered, stumbling on nothing and grabbing at Dean's arm for support.  "'S just a few drinks, 's not like'm _drunk_."

Dean rolled his eyes and hoisted him up by his elbow.  Trust Cas to disappear not two hours after they got him back to the bunker, and only call them once he was completely hammered at the nearest bar.  "Dude, you are totally smashed," he said.  He pulled Cas forward, out into the cool night air.  "C'mon, man, we're going home."

"Your home," Cas corrected.  "Bunker's _your_ home."

Dean's heart clenched.  "It's your home too, Cas," he said quietly.  Cas shook his head, almost answering him, but the movement pushed him off balance again and he swayed into Dean's side.

They made through the parking lot without further incident, but as they approached the impala Cas shoved at Dean's supporting arm.  "M'fine," he insisted.  "It was just a few drinks, don't need your help, Dean."

"Cas, you're human now," Dean said as gently as he could.  As frustrating as the former angel was being, Dean had to remember what had just happened to him yesterday.  "Your tolerance is shit, just like the rest of ours.  Maybe even worse, 'cause your body's not used to it."

"M'not a _baby_ ," Cas snapped, stopping in his tracks and glaring at Dean.  If he still had his mojo, Dean would have been worried he was about to smite him.  As it was, Dean wasn't so sure he couldn't burn him to a crisp just by sheer force of will.

"Never said you were," Dean said, holding up his hands in a placating gesture.  He thought of Sam giving him the _he's your best friend, Dean, you deal with him_ look when Cas called, and decided to put jalapeños inside Sam's burger the next time they ate at home.

Cas raised a finger, wavering somewhere between pointing at Dean and waving it for emphasis.  "Yes you did," he said.  "Without my powers I'm just a baby in a trenchcoat, s'what you said.  Well, not wearing my trenchcoat anymore, but you still think m'a baby."

That pulled Dean up short.  That's right, he had said that, back when they were hunting Eve.  He'd said that, and Cas had looked away moodily; Sam told him that he'd hurt Cas' feelings.  He hadn't given it second thought, and distracted by mutant monsters and the mother of fucking everything, and then by Cas himself and the lies that were unearthed.  He barely remembered calling Cas a baby, but obviously Cas remembered.  How long had he been turning those careless words over in his head, defining himself by how useful he could be?

"I don't think you're a baby, Cas, I think you're drunk," Dean said, grabbing Cas' arm and pulling him gently toward the impala.  "Come on, into the car.  We can talk about this later."

Cas trudged forward, glaring at him balefully as he sat down in the front seat.  Dean hesitated a moment, then put his seatbelt on for him.  Just because Dean never wore his didn't mean that Cas should cultivate that particular bad habit.  Besides, Cas was a lot more vulnerable than he'd been twenty four hours ago.

The ride back to the bunker was silent, punctuated only by the rumble of the engine and Cas' occasional sigh.  When the car pulled to a stop, Cas made no move to get out; Dean rolled his eyes and pulled him.

Cas sagged against him as they walked down to the door and Dean fished for the key, his head dropping to lean against Dean's chest.  "I like your heartbeat," he murmured.  "S'good heartbeat.  S'always been my favorite."  He moved his head, almost nuzzling.  Something fluttered in Dean's chest; he squashed it with a brutal efficiency gained after years of practice. 

"Yeah?" Dean said as he opened the heavy door.  He wrapped his arm around Cas' waist to support him as they entered the bunker.  If he clutched a little bit too tightly at the fallen angel- well, who would know?  He rarely got the chance to be this close to Cas; he wanted to savor it, even though Cas was apparently a grumpy drunk.

"I used to be able to hear it all the time," Cas said.  His voice was slurred and so quiet that Dean struggled to understand him.  "With m'powers.  Could hear everything.  Now I can't hear anything."

"Sure you can," Dean told him.  "You're listening to my heartbeat right now."

Cas hummed in agreement.  "S'good heartbeat," he said again.  He brought his hand up to touch Dean's neck, just the barest brush of skin.

"What are you doing?" Dean asked, hoping his voice didn't come out strangled.  Cas never touched him, not unless he was healing him or transporting him or catching his attention.  This was something different, and it was sending shivers down his spine.

Cas smiled.  "Your heart sped up," he murmured.

"Did it?" Dean said.  He pushed open the door to the empty bedroom they'd given to Cas.  "Here you are, home sweet home."  Cas gave him a sour look for that comment, but his hand didn't move from Dean's neck.  Instead he stepped in front of Dean so that they were face to face, standing so close that their noses were almost touching.  "Cas, what-" Dean began, but the words died in his throat as Cas moved forward that extra inch and brushed his lips against Dean's cheek.  It wasn't a kiss, just a light touch, but it Dean's heartbeat tripled in speed just from that one touch of lips.

"Cas..." he said, unable to pull away like he should.  He wasn't allowed to have this, these meaningful touches that set his nerves on fire, this closeness.  Cas had made it clear time and time again that he didn't want this, that he would rather disappear and leave Dean with a broken heart than let Dean even have this much.  The only reason Cas was doing this now was because he was drunk and hurting, and Dean would be taking advantage if he let it continue.  But still, he couldn't bring himself to move away.

Cas' lips dragged slowly, oh so slowly down Dean's cheek, his breath hot and quick against Dean's skin.  When he reached Dean's mouth, Dean couldn't help himself.  He let out a moan, so soft and breathy it was almost a sigh that came from deep in his core.  He felt Cas smile.

"Dean," Cas breathed, and kissed him in earnest.

It was sloppy, wet, and uncoordinated, but God was it everything Dean had always wanted.  Cas' mouth tasted like whiskey and peanuts, and Dean couldn't keep himself from tasting it, letting his mouth fall open to feel Cas' breath and then his tongue.  Cas' hands curled tightly at the nape of his neck, grabbing at his hair, and Dean pulled him closer, desperate to feel every part of him, the feeling of skin on skin, _everything._

Cas pulled away from his lips and began mouthing at his jaw, tracing the bone until he reached the soft curve of his neck.  Dean felt like he was walking on the edge of a knife that was cutting into his feet with every step, but it was good, so good feeling the soft swipe of Cas' tongue and the not-so-soft pinch of his teeth.  He _wanted_ , so badly he could feel it in his bones, so badly he was going to die from it.  He wondered if Cas had put it there somehow, the wanting, buried it inside him one time while he healed him, mending his old wounds only to create new ones.

" _Cas_ ," he murmured.  His hands had a mind of their own, tracing the contours of his friend's body like they were starving for the touch.  He was achingly hard, just from Cas' mouth on his skin and the heat of Cas' body in front of him.  He couldn't even imagine what it would feel like to press against him, skin sliding on sweat-slick skin, worshipping every inch of this body that now belonged to Cas and only to Cas, watching him come for the first time with Dean's hand around his cock.  Dean groaned at the thought, and dragged Cas back up to meet his mouth, hungry for him like he'd never been for anyone else.

It was then, with the taste of Cas burning its way through his body, that he realized Cas was shaking in his arms, shaking even as Cas yanked him closer and bit down hard on his bottom lip.  Cas suddenly felt delicate, like a paper-thin leaf blowing in a harsh wind, and suddenly Dean remembered why this was a bad idea.

He pulled away reluctantly.  He tried to ignore Cas' gloriously swollen and spit-slicked lips, met Cas' eyes instead.  The pupils were so blown his eyes were almost black; but they were also unfocused and glassy and red rimmed with the ache of humanity.

"Cas..." Dean said yet again, but this time he said it quietly, letting it soften the heat between their bodies.  Cas looked away, still breathing heavily.

"Dean... I'm not... I..." Cas said.  His shaking worsened.

"It's okay, Cas," Dean murmured.  "I've got you."  He pulled Cas in, not for a kiss this time.  He just held his friend in his arms, feeling dry sobs silently wrack through Cas' chest and wishing there was something else he could do.  Cas was standing at the edge of a precipice of his own making, and the only thing Dean could do was reach for him.  "I've got you," he breathed again.

Eventually, Cas' sobs died down.  He stayed in the circle of Dean's arms for a little while longer, breathing in the scent of Dean's skin as Dean's hands brushed comfortingly along his back.  When he pulled away, exhaustion had crept into his eyes, and a sad sort of weariness.  "I think I'll go to sleep now," he said.

"Yeah, of course," Dean said, letting his arms drop.  Cas made his way over to the bed, not bothering to change his clothes or brush his teeth before dropping onto the mattress and closing his eyes.  Dean lingered in the doorway for a moment, watching Cas' chest rise and fall, then turned off the light and made to leave.

"Dean?"

He looked over his shoulder.  Cas' eyes were open again, watching him go with a scared expression.  The fallen angel looked almost like a child, lost somewhere far away from home and forced to make his way in a cruel world.  But no, that wasn't it, because Cas was right: he wasn't a baby in a trenchcoat.  He was just Cas, former angel, Dean's best friend.

"What's up?" Dean asked gently.

A worried frown crossed over Cas' face.  "Can you..." he began, then hesitated.  "Could you stay with me tonight?  I don't... I don't want to be alone."

Dean smiled.  "Of course," he told him.  He walked over to the bed, toed off his shoes, and crawled under the covers with Cas, the former angel, Dean's best friend.

Cas curled next to him, tucking his head underneath Dean's chin.  Dean found himself pulling him closer, wrapping his arm around his waist and letting their legs tangle together.  They waited for sleep in silence, their bodies relaxing into each other until it was as if they were one person with two heartbeats.

"Dean?" Cas whispered after a while.

"Hmm?"

Cas' breath brushed on his face as Cas looked up at him.  "Thank you."

Dean pressed a kiss onto the top of Cas' head.  "Of course," he breathed into his hair.

They fell asleep like that, their limbs intertwined and their hearts beating in time.


End file.
